


Devil's Price

by fvartoxin



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Although this Crane can't medically drink putting that tag in there and boosting the rating in case, And I don't like to upload unfinished material, Crane has DID but it's rather understated, Discord shenanigans, Gen, Nonbinary Character, Noonan's [canon establishment], Southern Scarecrow, This RP server is long dead now and I swear this is the only RP I finished on it, Trans man Jonny [though that's not quite relevant to this piece in particular], he also was just really thirsty in this RP apparently, mentions of Hugo Strange, seriously just count how many times he slurps that iced tea, we support exactly one (1) dehydrated 61-year old
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:07:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21771919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fvartoxin/pseuds/fvartoxin
Summary: I'd like to think I've improved on my personal Scarecrow's characterization since this; this was done in the somewhat-earlier days of my writing him [so, this is several months old lmao]. Unfortunately plot threads which were alluded to in this server never got off the ground. Oh well!Speaking of old servers I'll definitely be uploading old Speaks RPs here too. I'm still quite proud of those. Janus was played by Hellcat#7096 on Discord, who has now dropped off the grid. I've no idea what happened to them.TRANSLATOR'S NOTE: "Wir sind die nact" - "We are the night"
Kudos: 1
Collections: A collection of mostly DC-related collabs with others





	Devil's Price

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to think I've improved on my personal Scarecrow's characterization since this; this was done in the somewhat-earlier days of my writing him [so, this is several months old lmao]. Unfortunately plot threads which were alluded to in this server never got off the ground. Oh well!
> 
> Speaking of old servers I'll definitely be uploading old Speaks RPs here too. I'm still quite proud of those. Janus was played by Hellcat#7096 on Discord, who has now dropped off the grid. I've no idea what happened to them.
> 
> TRANSLATOR'S NOTE: "Wir sind die nact" - "We are the night"

**[HeWhoLurksInTheDark]**

Who the fuck ordered flavored sweet tea at a bar? Other than designated drivers, or people who'd been dragged along on social outings that they really hadn't wanted to attend but felt obligated to go to anyway. Given that he'd bothered to _walk_ here, all the way from that cat hair and medical textbook-strewn apartment in the Narrows, the middle-aged man in the scarlet trenchcoat slotted neatly into...neither of those categories. Something moved in his limited peripheral, a customer coming in the door, and he attempted to focus on the newcomer without being obvious.

" _Evening_." Despite the hour, there weren't many patrons around. That was one of the benefits of a shitty neighborhood, depending on how you looked at a situation. 

**[Hellcat]**

The Fiend's crystal blue eyes blinked in annoyance. "What a _violent_ neighborhood," they muttered, shaking their head, "Which is all well and good, but _sometimes_ one would enjoy some peace and quiet. This Noonan's place, hopefully, will do for a while." With that, they swung open the door and stepped inside.

Janus' eyes flicked around the bar for a full second as they stepped in, surveying the general population before they raised their hands to their face as if to wipe away the sudden relative brightness in the bar, triggering their fell Gift. Fingertips massaging gently, the vampire rapidly molded their face into something similar, but older by some years, more lined, more haggard. Dark circles and a permanent scowl were on the face they wore as they moved their hands down, nodding at the barkeep. "Yes, yes it is. How's your vodka?"

**[HeWhoLurksInTheDark]**

"Naturally, any alcohol here is absolute crap," he hissed. "Kinda like everything else in this damn city. Or, _almost_ everything else. It'd serve to disinfect a wound well enough, but I'd hardly call it palatable." Not that he technically could drink, given the cocktail of medication he was on. But there were times when he wouldn't have minded getting absolutely hammered, as the youths said. Still, in a neighborhood that had a high crime rate even for Gotham City, it was best to keep one’s wits about them. Besides, 'Crow usually took the front when they were drunk, in some misguided hope of protecting Jon from any physical harm. That'd only get messy.

He tapped the sharpened nails of a skeletal hand on the tabletop, the likes of which looked like it hadn't been polished or sanded in years. And it also may have been rotting from the inside-out, but given the general dinginess of Noonan's as an establishment, it wouldn't be replaced anytime soon. The dartboard in the corner looked as though it hadn't been touched in twenty-odd years, and there was a pervasive amount of dust blanketing the liquor behind the bar; which increased the higher up someone craned their neck.

**[Hellcat]**

"Wow, what a great review. I'm certainly not going to have whatever you're having." They sat, a little too smoothly for the face they were wearing, and nodded at the barkeep again. "I'll have a Bloody Mary, best vodka you got in the hou...shack." A slender, pale finger gestured at the top of the shelves, the dustiest vodka bottle in the whole collection, as the pale Fiend let out a chuckle.

They offered a wry grin at the man a few stools down the bar, blinking a couple times as they realized why the jacket looked so familiar. But there was no way, they'd only heard stories of the so-called Master of Fear. They nodded again, this time slightly more slowly, more purposefully. "Nice jacket."

**[HeWhoLurksInTheDark]**

"If I bothered to use that Yelp thing all the kids putter around with, I'm sure that everyone who possessed even a vague amount of taste would find it useful." Did Yelp even count as a form of social media? Perhaps by loose definitions. It wasn't a concept which he bothered to consider further, and the thought dissipated like mist as quickly as it had initially intruded upon his short-term memory. "Not that many people in the hellhole we collectively grace as Gotham have taste. Or are even familiar with the concept, heh."

There was a momentary lull in the conversation as he took a long swig of tea. "Had it for quite some time. Decades. Was a gift; I'd like to say it's one of a kind, but for all I know someone could have just bought it and wrapped it up all nice." Sharp eyes slid over to them then, but he didn't choose to comment yet.

**[Hellcat]**

Another chuckle at the older man's scathing distaste for basically everything. "Nihilism seems to be one of Gotham's founding principles, from what I've noticed here so far." As the bartender stumbled and cursed trying to get the bottle down, Janus reached into their pocket, pulled out a crimson flask with a strange, embossed logo, took a swig of...whatever was in there, and tucked neatly back into their breast pocket.

At the stranger's rambling story, Janus nodded inwardly. Imagine, the Scarecrow himself sitting just down the bar! They didn't think he was still really active, yet there he was, plain as day! Except...gone was the imagined fierce presence, this man seemed almost...deflated. Perhaps with some prodding.

"Yeah? One of a kind doesn't surprise me, it certainly has a very...individual feel to it."

**[HeWhoLurksInTheDark]**

Naturally, he was 100% deflated. Like a sad, old (old _enough_ ) balloon that just so happened to be filled with various liquids instead of helium. So. Not a balloon, then, except if you were someone who was very bad at classifying balloons. Or if you knew very well what a balloon was, but were attempting to be poetic and failing terribly; and in a manner similar enough to the flight of the _Hindenburg_. "Nihilism, general selfishness, and _**greed**_ , certainly," he hummed lowly, and raised a brow at the sight of the oddball flask. Shame he didn't have a photographic memory, but his recall abilities had always been sharp enough. Maybe a small detail such as that would come in handy later.

"But, that's just what you get with large population centers. Also. Can't claim to remember who exactly gave this to me by this point in my life, but I've put it to good use." Clearly, given the tattered condition of the edges and the perpetually ripped and fraying sleeves.

**[Hellcat]**

"Some of man's most interesting qualities, to be sure," Janus kicked themselves mentally. They were speaking too well to match the face they were given, but oh well, this was too good an opportunity. The ordered drink arrived, barkeep - with dust still on his shoulders - setting the cocktail down perhaps a little _too_ forcefully. The flask came out again as soon as the man's back was turned - obviously Janus didn't care if the defunct villain saw, who would believe him? - and they tipped a shot's worth of some red liquid into the glass. "My own Bloody Mary mixture," was all that was offered by way of explanation.

"This is true, cities are often hives of scum and villainy, but oh such _interesting_ folk! Isn't an older gentleman like yourself afraid to go out at night, living in a place like Gotham?"

**[HeWhoLurksInTheDark]**

"Fascinating subject of study. Then again, I always _did_ enjoy picking brains." He'd allow himself a thin-lipped smile, if a very brief one. If only because he'd broken his stare for a half-second to squint at the dust coating the poor bartender's shoulders. Funny, really. "On occasion, the mind presents some valuable information." He nodded in acknowledgement of their explanation, and then continued. "Hmph. If he'd set that glass down with any more force, the damn thing would've broke."

Given that nature had unfortunately blessed him with a near-complete lack of night vision, he often didn't make nighttime appearances. Not anymore. Then again, he didn't bother to show his face around the city much in general. Introversion, coupled with a period of unofficial semi-retirement, was easily pinned as the cause of that. "I find that this place's a fine spot for people-watching. That is, when people are actually _here_. Gotham's an interesting sort of hub for the unusual in general, though. And, no. Apparently a 6'3'' tower of skin and bone makes most a little bit intimidated. If they're idiotic enough to pick fights despite that, well....usually the end results ain't pretty." He'd leave that open-ended.

**[Hellcat]**

The pale head nodded in agreement, smirking coolly in accompaniment of the other's momentary display of emotion. "Why, without the mind, we couldn't understand the possibilities of the body, or anything else for that matter, so why would one not want to peel back the layers of what makes all that possible?" They took a sip with a single snort of laughter, almost splattering their shirt with the drink. "Yeah, but then he'd have just had to pour another and would have gotten more upset! Hope he didn't put the bottle back up there..."

"Oh, the city's proving to certainly be anything but boring, there's always some fresh new hell raising itself, from what I've discovered since arriving. Six-three, you don't say? You have an inch on even me! I've been accosted a couple times already, it has yet to go well for those fellows." They met the veiled implication of violence with one of their own, looking at their suitcoat to pick off a spot of nonexistent lint. "Either way, I'm surprised anyone in this city walks around with _no_ fear."

**[HeWhoLurksInTheDark]**

"Some are downright frightened of knowledge. _Pathetic_. Running into what they don't know is shocking, and they get caught in a loop of periodic, unnecessary terror over something utterly asinine," he accompanied this with a roll of his wine-dark eyes. The light glinted off of his spectacles. "Knowing people as I do, and having eyes, he did. Someday he'll throw out that shoulder, or tear it in a way beyond repair. Not like there _isn't_ cripples around here." Jonathan swallowed habitually, and though he looked down at his tea he didn't seem inclined to imbibe further at the moment.

"I'd be astounded if the collective managed to go even fifteen minutes without some crime occurring and making its way onto the news or into the papers; however petty a deed. And, apart from the metahumans, there's few tall individuals 'round here. Suppose that makes me more notable." Even without the physical issues, he likely would have been tall. "Both thugs and the desperate never learn, do they? Such is the way of life."

It didn't take someone with genius-level intellect to know that something was up. That something _had_ been up since the moment this individual had walked through the door with creaking hinges, or taken a seat at the counter of the shittiest bar this side of the city. Few people had innocent intentions here. He shifted at the subtle change in tone, and chose to prop himself up with an elbow, one taloned hand resting underneath his chin. "Evidently, you have heard of me. I'll admit it was more....unintentional than much else, at first. Worked out in my favor in the end."

**[Hellcat]**

They almost grinned at that - finally, the legend they'd heard of jumped out! Satisfied at the quick study, they took a long drink, draining the glass before setting it down and whistling rudely at the bartender. A gesture at the glass, one at the bottle, a raised eyebrow, the actions of a person who's station was generally above such a seedy bar. Crystal eyes flicked back to Crane, watched the mortal's Adam's apple move with the motion of their swallow, saw the slow pulse of his carotid, looked back up to his eyes. "People fear a lot of things. Knowledge begs to be known, after all, and to make an omelette...well."

"If every little detail made its way into the media, then how on earth would anything truly productive get done? Besides, things to keep thugs, the desperate, and the meddlers at bay, while the rest of us simply try to carve out our mark."

Ah, they'd been made. A more genuine smile split the pale face, teeth glinting in almost the same shade as their skin. "Aaahh, when you go out in such a unique wardrobe, it's hard not to tell, and I've absolutely heard of you. While my interests more lie in...anatomy than psychology, I can admire the tools of your trade. What I didn't expect was to meet someone of your caliber in...well, in a shithole." The next drink came, this time being put down with a modicum more respect, and was ignored.

**[HeWhoLurksInTheDark]**

"Ahh, indeed. Be it actual eggs or something more metaphorical," he agreed with little fanfare, and then took another gulp of tea after a seemingly-lengthy period of quiet consideration. If the heart issues brought on by Marfan Syndrome didn't kill him first, it'd be dehydration that hammered that final nail into the coffin. Or, given his _whopping_ weight of exactly one-hundred-and-twenty pounds (no more, and certainly no less), starvation would do him in. Maybe even a combination of both; that all hinged on the possibility of his not being thrown out yet another 5th-story window. "Everything seems to be turned on its head here. The authorities do _so_ love t'gossip."

"Were I able to, perhaps I'd invest in buying more clothing." He idly brushed at his scraggly beard. Might be worth taking the time to shave. That could be handled easily enough later, provided he didn't just hop onto the couch with a book and pass out after slinking indoors. "As flattered as I am, if _that_ 's an attempt at flirting, I might just have to decline." Part of him wouldn't have minded, but this wasn't the place and he wasn't in the habit of making passes at strangers. Largely. "It's dirt cheap, for the most part, and I frankly don't care enough t'devote the resources towards hauling my ass off to a spiffier place." Too much to be done at home.

**[Hellcat]**

The Fiend nodded in quiet agreement, mind clinking along. Leading subtle conversations wasn't always his strong suit, and this was not the strength of will he'd come to expect from a personality such as Jonathan Crane. "Gossip is often how things get around, is it not? That's just part of information gathering."

"Were you able to, what an interesting thing for someone with your particular career history to say." The man in front of them certainly didn't seem like the Scarecrow that had terrorized the city so at his prime, but who were they to judge? However, perhaps a nudge...a pale hand waved the thought away as they struggled not to have a giggle at that. "Oh, not at all - say, can I get some fries?" The barkeep glowered before heading into the dingy kitchen, and the Fiend grinned wide. "My appetites sexually are extremely shallow, I'll admit, on the occasion they exist. You take apart the mind, build it into whatever you see fit." A pale hand raised up to their nose, and with a sound like Velcro that was somehow...wet, tugged it _completely off their face_ before pressing it bloodily to their chin, where it seemingly joined with their skin - useless without the rest of the respiratory system behind it, but reattached nonetheless. "God by dose. Ad I...one segud," the nose was quickly replaced, "ugh, and I mean to say I do the same with the physical form.”

**[HeWhoLurksInTheDark]**

"Few things in life are consistent. But, death, taxes, and the nature of human beings to gossip are certainly three of 'em." That wasn't worded entirely correctly, and for a split second he _almost_ felt something resembling shame; at least, when comparing that to his prison-supervised attempts at teaching English to the more disadvantaged members of the asylum way back when. Thank God he hadn't felt anything which even remotely resembled shame, remorse, or even regret since the late 80's. Many things had died with the infant he'd birthed.

Maybe _too_ many, but there wasn't a time nor a place to properly analyze that.

"Ain't like the university paid that well, but compared to my situation now I see that it was a definite upgrade. Got too many other things t'budget towards these days. If I don't break my fingers, I can still stitch up fabric." He watched the barkeep leave with only a "They still have food here? I'm amazed." There was a lengthy pause as he attempted to process Janus's tearing their nose off, then reattaching it. There were stranger things in Gotham City, he'd _seen_ weirder shit firsthand; though he preferred not to think about Hugo for prolonged periods of time, as many Gallery members did. "'S fair. Y'know, I feel as though you might get along with a certain _other_ doctor, judging by....that. If he doesn't have more sinister plans, that is."

**[Hellcat]**

Janus took a moment to parse what was said, the man certainly had a backwoods manner of speaking. Reminded them of Roscoe and the boys from the hill country back home. If only the rest of the Deeds had come through with him, they'd have been running this city in a week...they snapped back to the reality at hand, shooting the other man a cocky wink, the expression made even more ridiculous by the older face they were wearing. "That's the damn truth, and I know folk who've made their fortunes selling gossip."

While the retiree took a moment to ponder seeing fleshcraft for the first time, Janus leaned forward, raising hands to their face, massaging again, pressing the haggard visage back into the sharp-lined face they fancied. Was that their original face? They'd never tell. When the work was done, they steepled their fingers, affixing Jon with an almost hungry look.

"Ah, yes, funding is always such a chore, one I prefer to leave to simpler means than mere work. I would be absolutely thrilled to learn of this...other doctor, if you'd be so inclined. In return, while the means I have access to, at present, are limited, I may be able to occasionally help you...spruce up a bit." Thin lips curled upwards in a smile as they baited the hook. Putting on Allison's face made it so simple to ghoul a rich fool, then demand financing in exchange for the blood they craved. The Fiend could have access to significant funding in under a week. Meeting the Scarecrow may have been a surprise, but even more so was the man's retirement. Perhaps that could be seen to, but the Tzimisce needed someone more immediately useful as well. Empires aren't built on one's own back, after all.

**[HeWhoLurksInTheDark]**

"Gossip truly makes the world go 'round," he sniffed. "That, and money. Although, to an extent, that goes hand-in-hand. But you know that as well as I do. No point in restating further. I'm not in the habit of trading secrets, though, and I sure as hell ain't some billionaire like Wayne." Would have made _his_ job easier, but look at that, he'd managed to make some sort of a life for himself anyway. Going from teaching at a prestigious university to heading Arkham Asylum had been no small feat; shame it hadn't lasted as long as he would have liked. At the mention of Bruce Wayne, the heads of a few patrons turned towards him, but he paid them no mind.

" _Please_ , I'd sell Hugo to the Devil for a can of soup. I suspect he'd do the same for me. No need for trying to sweeten the pot. We never did get along, even in the rare moments where we weren't at each other's throats." He managed to push down whatever memories had been dredged up, and continued. "Anyhow. Dr. Hugo Strange. Middle name ain't important; not many people with that last name 'round here. Mostly hangs around South Gotham. Or the Narrows." Where the older man unfortunately lived. "Has a thing for gene splicing, reanimating corpses, and generally playing God. Wherever the Bat goes, he's bound to follow. Eventually. Obsessive personality, which tends to blind him."

**[Hellcat]**

Another nod as the barkeep came back, slapping a plastic basket of what was once the world's most dejected potato, now in the form of very old French fries. They looked to be cooked in a microwave. Janus ignored them as well as well as the barkeep, but made a mental note to eat the man later.

The mention of Wayne gave them a chuckle. They'd read about that man, prime ghoul material, but the billionaire was so reclusive Janus was almost certain they wouldn't be able to see them often enough to bond. "Money, information, and blood, the three most precious thing in life," they chuckled, "and more reliable than either of the inevitable parts of life."

The name and information was filed away, Janus was certain they would find a man by such a unique name. Pfffft, some of these folks names were almost like comic book characters back home. The thought had them grinning as they absorbed what was being said. Belatedly, the Fiend realized they hadn't even tried to slip the old villain any blood - this new town must be making them soft. Upside, he hadn't necessarily _accepted_ the offer of payment. Free information was precious. "Gossip at a bar is a considerably lower price than soup, and much appreciated. I've dealt with both bats and obsessive types, although The Bat is certainly different," a mortal in a mask, how uninspired. The Fiend had never seen the Batman in person, obviously. "The least I can do is pay for your drink."

**[HeWhoLurksInTheDark]**

" _Je_ sus, the minute some health inspector bothers t'get their head out their ass this place is getting shut down. But, knowing the power structure in Gotham, that ain't happening soon. If ever." Those fries looked worse than McDonald's' fare, not that he was particularly inclined to compliment what he viewed as the lowest of the low in terms of fast food joints. Though even that establishment had some decent parts. The cinnamon roll bite things had been good, not that he had much of an appetite for sugar. "Certainly so, not that I give such topics special consideration anymore." When he could be bothered, anyway. He was generally so cagey that people no longer sought him out when scrounging around for resources of any kind.

"Batman's a damn furry. I only regret that one of my former students introduced me to the concept of furries in the first place. 'Least most of 'em are harmless. The others just give me concern for the future of humanity," he snorted, and gulped down more tea. "If you run into Hugo, and I have no doubt you _will_ , do punch him in the face for me. He deserves that at least." This prompted a short, high-pitched burst of laughter; probably the first time he'd actually laughed in quite a while. "...Thanks."

**[Hellcat]**

The pale creature inclined their head in agreement. "I may be new to town, but I've certainly caught on to the corruption here. I've no doubt that this rat hole will keep operating at what qualifies for peak capacity." The bartender glared. Janus winked.

The parallel between the caped vigilante and the strange folks they saw in hotels and Jim Bob's laptop earned a laugh of its own, full-throated, head back cackling. "I...never would have made that connection, and that may be the funniest thing I've heard in months!" Logic weighed in - humans don't experience humor like that and stay pale, trigger the blood, bring it to the surface, make the cheeks ruddy. Good walking corpse. "The thanks is mine to give for that!"

Schooling their face to its expressionless gaze again, the Fiend nodded, slapping a few bills on the table before reaching for a napkin, scrawling a number on it and sliding it across the bar. They spoke as they did so. "While the discussion was engaging, I seem to have business to tend to, and it's become apparent I have no meal under this roof. I should be going, but if you ever have need of me, do hesitate to be in touch."

**[HeWhoLurksInTheDark]**

"Don't think I'll live t'see the day when this city's free of corruption. Not that I'd _want_ it to be, that sure as hell wouldn't benefit me any. All I'm saying is that the veins of malversation run dark and deep. A very interesting thing to study, if one so cared." His eyes shifted over to the bartender in a more relaxed manner. " _Tsk, tsk_. How many jobs you work, child?"

The bartender staunchly refused to answer this question, and instead focused on scrubbing away at some long-unattended area of countertop. Not like that would accomplish much of anything.

Jonathan paid that little heed, and instead merely grinned; sharp teeth on full display. Some of that old fervor had entered his expression, though it likely wouldn't last long. "It's a depressingly logical viewpoint. May as well call half the damn Gallery furries, too. Mainly the lesser members. C-listers, D-listers. Though of course there's Catwoman. She deserves a mention." He took the napkin, folding it and shoving it into a coat pocket in a singular fluid motion. "Sometimes it's nice to just talk t'someone other than the usual suspects. See y'around." 

**[Hellcat]**

"Points for 'malversation,' that was a new one. I leave that kind of study to those who are so inclined. Myself, I just enjoy the corruption. My kind of town." Janus was enjoying the conversation, it wasn't often they got to speak so close to surface level, usually everything was subterfuge. Fun, but tiring.

The bartender, meanwhile, sealed his eventual fate. Perhaps Janus would fashion a pair of gloves from him. Nobody would suspect they were wearing someone's hands, what a lovely gift.

More furry talk? And yet, "That...makes a disturbing amount of sense, and draws in to question just how many in that line of work are more in touch with their inner Beast than they know...Ah, the cat burglar. For such a simple premise, I've read that she's wildly effective." That grin would stay with them. It was feral, let the Fiend know that _maybe_ the old Master of Fear were still in there, somewhere behind the deflated face. They stood, offering a smile and a cold, dead hand to the once-Scarecrow. "When you're a new face, nobody is a usual suspect. It's been an experience meeting you. Ah, and I never told you my name! For now...Vykos will suffice." Stealing his grandsire's name outright this time? She would exsanguinate if she knew. How fortunate she never would.

**[HeWhoLurksInTheDark]**

"Generally, when one acquires a college degree in any subject which is even remotely complicated, then they're familiar with something more than basic lexicon," he deadpanned, but no real harm had been done. Still, old habits died hard. "Despite my general manner of speech. Who _doesn't_ find some kind of entertainment in the state of this city? It's a mess, that much is clear, but it ain't a boring sort of mess. Always something going on."

"Would rather not think about that too hard. Also, I'm sure if y'looked up 'cat burglar' in an online dictionary you'd be likely t'find her picture. Metaphorically, that is. She's excellent at her craft, and a fine woman. Not like I'm too interested in that, 'course. She's young, for my tastes." It wasn't as if he deeply cared about the matter of romance, provided someone wasn't underage and was able to consent to more adult dealings. But, best to let others think. "That, and she seems to be awful interested in the Bat. How dreadful." And there was also the matter of how he wasn't in the habit of removing himself from the closet around most company to consider. "No, I'd wager not," he hummed idly, and shook their hand without a singular passing remark on the temperature difference. "I sense I haven't quite lived up t'your expectations. No matter. I'll keep that in mind."

**[Hellcat]**

"But of course!" Janus wasn't even aware that they'd delivered an insult with the first bit, and was busying wholeheartedly agreeing. "Surgeons of words and minds are just as effective as surgeons of body and flesh! And this is very true. I remember the crew I used to run with, if they got too bored, a building was likely to end up in flames. To say nothing of what they did to the Trail of Lights one winter. I think the younger generation would have called them 'extra'.

"Plenty of folk in this city who are masters of their craft!" They finished off, before finally realizing they'd slighted the other man, and quickly backpedaled, their calm demeanor faltering into nerves. How dare they break propriety in such a manner! It must have been the seedy bar, yes, not their own ego or self-importance! "Oh dear, I do apologize if I insulted you!" They waved their hands rapidly, eyes widening. "I meant no offense in the slightest! I came in here looking for a _meal_ , and was unaware that a person of note like yourself frequented the place. The conversation has been lovely, but I haven't eaten in about three days, and hunger is a terrible Beast. It's apparent that I need to move on and seek out my dinner elsewhere, that is all. Asking you to hesitate to contact was simply poor humor." True enough, they hadn't drank from anyone in days, and didn't want to eat in the Scarecrow's sight.

As for bad humor, well...bad judgment.

**[HeWhoLurksInTheDark]**

Well, no _lasting_ harm had been done. "...Naturally so." The former professor and Arkham head simply scowled. The vague feeling rattling around in his bony chest would fade soon enough. Despite the fact that his ability to feel the finer tenets of the emotional spectrum had been dampened by years of both physical/emotional trauma and fear toxin overusage, he'd never been fond of insults to his intelligence. That much was clear. "Ahh, arson. Kind of a petty crime, ain't it? Easy enough to commit, but almost disappointingly basic in a way." He was no firebug, and wouldn't claim to know anything other than the chemical process and potential psychological reasoning behind starting fires. "'Least fire's of some use in the colder months."

"Gotham's a hub for geniuses and those with quick wits, certainly." He blinked, slow and disquietingly reptilian. "No permanent offense taken. I'm used to it." And indeed, he was. "This ain't the place for...well, anything that's remotely edible. I won't keep you much longer." With that, he turned back to the glass of tea he'd been slowly nursing.

**[Hellcat]**

Janus was still unaware of the full amount of the damage they'd caused, but that was how they were, too focused on too many things at once to notice what was going on in a conversation. Mama Carmen had gotten onto them time and again for those foibles. At the arson comment, they had to offer the other another laugh, nodding their head amicably. "Very true, but the fire was usually to cover up anything else that had happened. There was this once at a Main Event, of all places...but I digress. My kind have a very unique relationship with fire, fear and empowerment both. Plus they were frequently a fairly petty Pack."

The pale head inclined as they backpedaled, mind reeling. "My hands are more skilled than my mind or tongue, frequently," they attempted to mollify the retired villain, but it was obvious that the damage was done. "No, the only thing I'll be putting in my mouth here tonight is my foot - which I can do literally, if you'd like." But by that time, the man had turned his back on them. That was deserved.

**[HeWhoLurksInTheDark]**

"Ahh. Well, fire surely does destroy. That's a constant. Not the _cleanest_ way t'get rid of something, but it'll do in a pinch." This was indeed true. "Not many ways that don't leave behind evidence of some sort, anyhow. Locard's Principle'n all. Sounds like an interesting group, not that I'm one for either having more than two, three friends or regularly traveling in large crowds. I won't ask what happened to your former cronies now. Better y'not starve t'death, three days is a damn long time."

"I find most're that way," he quipped, vaguely, and did not turn to look them in the eyes again. Instead, he drank some tea. "Would rather y' _not_ literally do so. The few people here are drunker than a goddamn skunk, but I'd think that's bound to raise some eyebrows. Maybe even prompt a few 911 calls, just in case. Most in Gotham'd sell each other out on a dime, but even they still have some sort of a conscience and may very well get concerned."

**[Hellcat]**

"That it does. Destroys, rebuilds, always something so primal in the flames..." Janus was half-daydreaming again. They snapped back to it. "Locard's...? Not something I'm familiar with!" Jim Bob would have made a Picard quip. "Ah, my former Pack were certainly a colorful and loud bunch, things were never boring! But nothing happened to them, I simply seem to be...out of place. To...death?" They giggled at the gentleman's back at that, too tickled to keep their composure.

Ouch. Okay, the Fiend deserved that barb, even if it wasn't _directly_ targeted at them. They grinned toothily at the once-Crow's refusal. Honestly, that would take a little more blood to do than they'd wanted anyways. Although the topics of a small amount of conscience and selling folks out...oh dear, more introductions needed to be made. "Honestly, I thank you for not asking me to make good on that one. I could handle a few police, but I'd rather be off certain...other radars. _Wir sind die nact_ , after all, and what thrives in the dark shies from the light. It truly has been a pleasure meeting you, and I appreciate the reminder on the manners. Perhaps we'll meet again before too long."

Enough trying to make up for their mistake, they truly _did_ have a meal to go find.

**[HeWhoLurksInTheDark]**

"Y'sound like Lynns with all that," he snorted, and rolled his eyes. He wasn't too familiar with the individual who called himself 'Firefly' (Actually, was there more than one of them now? It was difficult to keep track), but then again he didn't particularly wish to be acquainted with the business end of a molotov. Or an industrial-grade flamethrower, or whatever else the younger Rogue possessed. One, he was getting a little too stiff for extended combat. Two, his clothing wasn't fire-retardant. "Forensic science. When two items come into physical contact, there'll be an exchange. Impossible for someone to perpetrate a crime without leaving a trace - however small - of their being at the scene. Had a brief stint as a forensic psychologist."

Best not to go into detail about _that_ , either. "Hmm, that it does. Some people're better t'give a wide berth. If y'know what's good for you, that is. 'Least y'attempted t'apologize, also. Half of 'em didn't even do that." Who 'them' referred to was fairly unclear. "Maybe we will. Maybe we won't. Never can tell with these streets." 

**[Hellcat]**

Janus smiled a little wistfully at Jon's back. They were suddenly having two different conversations, but that was acceptable - best not to divulge what the Deeds had _actually_ been up to before setting all those fires. Chiding themselves to remember propriety, they nodded along, unseen, tucking that particular knowledge of the villain's past away in case it became useful later. Knowing who might follow evidence trails was always useful, especially to someone for whom biological material was just clay.

"Ah, I've met my fair share of folk that I truly wish I hadn't, but for every _true_ terror, there are plenty of others who fight back against that in their own way." They wanted to spit. That line felt dangerously close to Camarillan propaganda, but at the same time, one must protect one's food source from other predators. "I try to remain conscious of my manners, even if I tend to stumble along the way. Until that maybe, then." Not wanting to touch the other lest it be seen as an attack, they simply knocked on the back of their chair once and turned, sauntering back out through the door and into the gloomy Gotham night.

**[HeWhoLurksInTheDark]**

He'd always thought that the ability to follow multiple lines of thought was proof that one at least had a _brain_ in their skull (or, at the very minimum had once been in possession of one), if not proof of intelligence of some sort. But that wasn't something which usually came up in conversation, and was as such ignored, stowed away. Some thoughts simply needed to be kept to one's self.

Again on the matter of sensitive information, his position at that particular job had been far from brief. But naturally, things did blur together after a while. It had been quite some time before he'd fully escaped into his now-former (yet again) occupation, regardless. Yet, the public had known of him, even then. In other ways. There had always been someone who they hadn't believed, screaming about a living scarecrow in the asylum basement or roaming the halls when a place had closed up for the night-

"People whose existences were a mistake are unavoidable, disappointingly. 'S true enough, though. The basic nature of animals is t'survive." That could easily have been turned into a deeper social commentary, but this wasn't the time to lecture. He sure as hell wasn't in the mood. "I'll give you credit for being more cognizant of your mistakes than today's youth," he grumbled. "Until then."

If the scarring lacing his backbone was any indication, he had never enjoyed physical touch.


End file.
